Of Course He Exists
by pinktron
Summary: Something falls out of Sherlock's jacket pocket at a crime scene, and it leads to Lestrade and the other Yarders wanting to know a little bit too much about the Consulting Detectives personal life. Parings: Johnlock, Warnings: None
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is something I've been having nag at my head for a while. So, I wrote it up! I also wanted to say something else… I want everyone to know that as a fanfiction author I am completely appalled by what happened at the Empty Hearse Q and A in London on December 15****th****. What Caitlin Moran did was absolutely wrong and disgusting. I don't write, nor do I read M rated fanfiction, however, I don't judge those who do. That author is completely embarrassed as I'm sure both Benedict and Martin are as well. I just hope beyond hope that our fandom can come together and show those two actors, along with everyone else, that fanfiction is for OUR enjoyment and that it isn't our intent for them to ever read it. Fanfiction needs to stay in the fan verse you guys… I'm just… I'm so mad and upset right now over this… but anyway please enjoy the first chapter of my newest two-shot…**

**-Pinktron**

* * *

"Hey, Freak." Sally Donavan roughly shoved past Sherlock Holmes as she picked up her folder for the day. She really despised it when he was on a case with her. Why couldn't he just find his own assistant, then she and Anderson wouldn't have to work with the arrogant git.

"Hello, to you too Sally." Sherlock's voice came out as a snide whisper as he shot her a glare before disappearing into Lestrade's office.

"Glad to see you, Sherlock." Detective Inspector Lestrade didn't even look up as he grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. "I've got a case for you. You're gonna love it."

A small smile graced the tall man's lips as he walked down the halls of Scotland Yard with Greg Lestrade. The man had been his only ally at the Yard, and even though he wouldn't admit it; he was happy that he had an ally there. He needed the cases, but he also needed the friendship the alliance brought.

"He's 37 years old, named Tim Fanta, found dead by his girlfriend at approximately 6:35 this morning. He was lying face down on the bed, it was obvious that his throat was slashed. We moved the body for forensics. It looks a lot like cases 5 and 9 from last week… thinking serial killer… probably female."

The cogs in the consulting detectives head turned as he knotted his scarf before stepping out into the cool London breeze. "Tell me about the crime scene… since Anderson moved the body… idiot."

"Be nice, Sherlock." Lestrade gave the taller man a sharp glare. "Face down on the bed, blood gushing from his slit throat. He was completely naked except for his Rolex, his girlfriend said it was a gift from her. His wallet and keys were still on the bedside table along with two glasses of whiskey. There was some woman's underwear found in the bed too, just the bottoms. He had obvious abrasive marks on his back, along with marks on his wrists and neck."

"Definitely a crime of passion. No possessions stolen, something left. I think it might have been sexual, but I'd have to see the markings. I have a total of 7 ideas, the most possible of which is a prostitute that might have also been hired by the men in cases 5 and 9. I'll see what else I can do when we get there." Sherlock yawned. "You have to stop giving me such obvious cases, Lestrade. You're starting to bore me." The two walked in silence until Sherlock went for a cigarette. That's when it fell out of his pocket.

It was obviously a ring… a man's engagement ring on a chain. It was a small gold band with initials carved into it. The DI leaned down to pick it up with a questioning look in his eyes. He quickly gave it back to Sherlock who shoved it back into his pocket without another word or even a semblance of an explanation.

"What was that?"

"Nothing… just… sentiment." Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the word. He wasn't a sentimental man. He was considered a machine… someone who didn't feel. He liked it that way. They continued the rest of the way to the crime scene in silence. The sudden rough and slightly choked tone of the detective had scared Lestrade, and he knew better than to ask any other questions... at least right at that moment…

* * *

**I need you to Skype me.**

** -SH**

** It's against the rules… so is the phone… but Mycroft managed that at least…**

** -JW**

** I need to talk to you… I need to see your face, John…**

** -SH**

** I'm on duty, Sherlock!**

** -JW**

** I don't want to beg… **

** -SH**

** I'll buzz Mycroft, hold on.**

** -JW**

_3 minutes pass… 7… 10 minutes… 20… Sherlock begins to feel impatient. Couldn't his brother do anything right?! He groaned, finger hovering over his phone's keyboard. John was right… the phone was already contraband. Mycroft surely didn't care that much… Suddenly.. *beep beep*_

**Get on your computer and log in… Mycroft is gonna tap you into the secure network.**

** -JW**

** Thank You**

** -SH**

It was a matter of minutes before Sherlock was on his computer and the very grainy face of his fiancé popped up on the screen, the little Skype logo in the corner bouncing up and down. "Hi…"

"Hi…" John smiled. "You have a difficult case?"

"Yeah," Sherlock curled his knees up to his chest. "I just needed to see your face... hear your voice. I'm glad Mycroft could understand."

"He really does care a lot about you, Sherlock."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments. Talking had never been something needed in their relationship. They understood each other by one movement or a look in the eyes. Sometimes Sherlock just wanted to stare at John for hours and the Doctor was ok with it.

"Say it…" John's lips tightened just a tad. "I know you need to... just say it…"

"I… miss you…" Sherlock felt an unfamiliar burning sensation behind his eyes. Oh, how he hated emotions... feelings... caring... sentiment… but everything was worth it for John... _his_ John. "Why did you have to go? If Mycroft could do this... surely _he_ could say you didn't have to go."

"You know the answer, Sher. I couldn't live with that. He probably could have, but I made a commitment."

"You made one to ME too, John! You could DIE!" That's when Sherlock lost all control and tears streamed down his face. "I understand… logically I do. You need to finish one thing before you start another… but, John… I need you." His voice was so small now. He knew he was making John feel guilty, it was such a bad habit… and, he really didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so, so sorry." John closed his eyes and reached his hand out to touch the screen that bore the image of his fiancé's face. "I would be there if I could." It was then that someone out of frame came into the room, it was then that Sherlock heard a rough voice call John's name. He knew it would be time to say goodbye soon.

"You have to go?"

John's eyes looked sad. "Yes…we're getting shot at… they need me. I'll be home in three weeks; you can make it until then… I promise…"

The taller man tried his best to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall. He hated feeling like this… he hated feeling at all. "I'll make it until then…"

"Goodbye…" the army doctor's voice was very quiet now. "No smoking please… for me? I love you."

Sherlock made a noise like a strangled animal. "I promise." He pushed his lips against the screen that separated them. He never got to say 'I love you,' before the screen went black.

Despite the promise he had just made and the love he held for his fiancé; the consulting detective couldn't take the pain, the emotion, the headache, the case… the everything. He reached for his hidden glossy box of cigarettes, and slowly lighting one he let the room fill with the welcoming odor.

* * *

"I need you to fill out these papers on the case. You were right about who did it… we just haven't caught them yet." Lestrade was siting a cross from the Yard's current consulting detective as he pushed a thick stack of papers over.

"Obviously…."

Lestrade sat there for a minute watching Sherlock begin to fill out the papers. There was obviously a question on his lips, but he didn't want to ask.

"Go on... ask." The detective didn't even look up from his paperwork. Damn, he was good.

"Uhm…" Lestrade started off uncertain as he began his question. "That ring… from the other day. What was that?"

The detective grunted without really even looking up. "That was two days ago, Lestrade. Clearly you engage yourself in far too many trivial matters."

"So... you aren't going to tell me then?"

This time Sherlock looked up. "Fine, I'll… engage you." He pulled the ring out from his coat pocket and handed it to the DI. "What do you deduce from this?"

The DI hated paying these games. Every time he asked about the detective's life he was forced to play a round of 'deduce me if you can.' It was tiring, and he often refused to play. This time however, he really was quite curious. "uhm… it is.. a man's wedding ring… no… engagement ring." Lestrade ran his fingers over the gold band and still continued to look for details. "It doesn't look like it's been worn much, and seeing as you have it on a chain and in your pocket that says you aren't that worried about losing it… otherwise you'd have it around your neck. It is obviously too small for you… and the engraving I can't really read but it looks like it contains initials."

Sherlock smirked. "Good job, Detective Inspector. Much better than the last two times we played." He gingerly took the ring back and replaced it in his pocket. "You're right... it is a man's engagement ring. It doesn't fit, therefore it is not mine. However, I am worried about losing it, but I do enjoy sentiment sometimes and keeping it close to my heart in this pocket seems fitting."

"It doesn't fit, therefore it isn't yours… so you're not engaged?"

"Yes… I am…" Sherlock's pen stopped on the paperwork that he and barely looked up from throughout the entire discussion. "John wears mine on his dog tags and I have his. He always was bugging me about... sentiment. He's an army doctor... in Afghanistan. Second tour." As quickly as the conversation started; it stopped and Sherlock went back to writing furiously on his packet of paper.

"Oh…"

* * *

**Did you know he was engaged?**

** -GL**

** Who? Freak?**

** -SD**

**Yeah… he's uncharacteristically sentimental about that ring he carries around. Said his fiancé is in the army.**

** -GL**

**He's a fantastic actor that bloke. I don't believe a word of it. Wouldn't we have met this girl by now?**

** -SD**

** Guy… his name is John.**

** -GL**

**Gay? Hmmm… seems fitting… lol. Easy enough name to make up, and an easy enough story to get sympathy. He's lying, Greg. Don't feel sorry for him.**

** -SD**

** I don't know, Sally. He is oddly sentimental about it. I think this guy might exist.**

** -GL**

** Who would want to marry the Freak? After all... is he really capable of any emotion?**

** -SD**

** True….**

** -GL**

* * *

"Freak!" Sally cornered the detective. By now the entire Yard knew about the 'John' story and almost no one believed in his existence. "How sad, making up a story for sympathy? Never thought you had it in you!" He could hear the laughter of the Yarders, but he tried to tune it out. He needed to talk to Lestrade.

He pushed open the door with a 'clang' and moved a chair so he was sitting directly opposite of the DI. He threw a packet of paper down on the desk. "No cases next week."

The DI lifted his eyes form the computer screen. "Are these the forms from case number 9 from yesterday? And, excuse me?"

"Yes… and you heard me, I'm not going to say it again."

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "No cases? At all? What if I get a 10? You're going to want me to call you."

"Something… personal has come up." The detective ran a hand through his hair, and it was then that Greg realized how awful the detective really looked. He looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in days, or even eaten. It looked almost like he had been crying and he looked absolutely distraught. "You are not to call me under any circumstances. Even a 10." His eyes were completely icy as he looked straight at the DI.

"I understand. Is everything ok? You look like shit."

The detective rolled his eyes. "You don't actually care, Lestrade. Don't worry yourself over trivial matters. It is just a small family issue, but I prefer not to discuss it. You know I don't do sentiment." He wrinkled his nose at the last word.

"You _were_ pretty sentimental about that ring…" Lestrade knew he shouldn't have brought it up, but he needed more information… well, he wanted it. He saw Sherlock visibly stiffen.

"That was not information I wanted you partial to… but, you seemed insistent. Now the entire Yard knows; thanks to one Sally Donavan, and everyone thinks that John is a fake. I understand your need to be included in everyone's personal life and such trivial matters as who is sleeping with whom… but, as I said, I no longer wish to discuss anything about this topic. Do you have a case for me today?"

And, just like that the topic changed, and so did Sherlock's tone. The DI decided to leave it alone as he handed over yet another stack of papers. "I'll accompany you to the scene. 23 year-old woman fresh out of uni. Shot in her flat. We can't find the room mate… no clues and no suspects… you in?"

Sherlock smirked. "The game is on... although this is blindingly obvious… if you can't find the flat mate it was her. However, I must deduce the crime scene to acquire more accurate information."

With that the consulting detective bounded out of the room giving the DI not nearly enough time to grab his own coat and follow. If he was sure of one thing though it was that John… whoever he was probably did exist.

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**A/N: *end scene* Hey guys! Big thanks to Parivash who read this fic and made sure everything was awesome and perfect! Chapter 2 will be coming soon! To reprise what I said in my first authors note… please understand that I do NOT condone what Caitlin Moran did at the Empty Hearse screening the other day and I do NOT wish that my fics will ever be read by the actors or writers. Like many others this is just for my enjoyment and I share it because I think others will like it! 3 Thanks for reading you guys make me smile all the time! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2! Yay! This WILL be the last chapter I do not intend to extend it. However, I will always accept prompts and if an idea strikes I'll continue! Hope you enjoy this last installment as much as I loved writing it! Don't forget to review! also follow me on tumblr: klainebaby123 is my name... the same name is also my Instagram and my twitter handle is khouck6992...**

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_Chapter 2_

"I'm glad to be home." John sat in the big leather chair safe inside 221B Baker Street. He felt warm and loved; something he'd been missing in Afghanistan. He sat with a blue blanket draped upon him, a cup of tea in his hands, and his shoulder was bandaged heavily.

Sherlock was sitting across from him staring straight through him with those ice-cold eyes. "I'm happy." His words were so simple, but they meant to world to John. "but, I don't like why you are here."

"I know, but it's ok!" John's voice was much louder than his fiancé's; he was obviously feeling much better. "At least I'm not going back now. I get to stay here, with you, and possibly go on cases again."

"You don't understand!" the detective moved his head so that his eyes were staring right into the army doctor's. "You could have DIED! This isn't ok! In what way is this ok?!"

"I'm not saying it's ok… I'm just saying I'm here and it is ok now."

"No it's not! It is NOT OK! You. Got. Shot!" Sherlock's eyes, which were always a different color, almost seemed to turn red before he settled down again and they turned back into a subtle grey.

"Come here." John motioned to the chair next to him. The detective silently got up and laid his head over the edge so that his fiancé could play with his curls. They weren't like other couples and John knew that. They were a gay couple made of two people who weren't gay, but found a deeply rooted love in each other. It had come about when both had been looking for a flat share. It was back before Sherlock had started working for the Yard and had only been taking small personal cases, and was busy categorizing Tobacco ash. It was when John had gotten back from his first tour in Afghanistan, with little to no money and no possessions aside from a change of clothes and some dog tags. They had created a simple life together where they had become comfortable in the presence of each other. It had quietly blossomed into love that had surprised both of them but they didn't really mind; they felt safe with each other.

Sherlock had become a different person because of it all, and that's why only a year after they met they got engaged. It wouldn't have taken a genius to realize the two belonged together. Two months after the engagement when John got his letter directly from the British government the world's only consulting detective cried for the first time in years. It was as if the flood gates had opened and he was letting out years' worth of bottled up emotions; he couldn't lose this person of his. That's why he begged and pleaded with Mycroft to take back the letter not to make the man go, and that's why he cried even more when he watched his fiancé get onto an airplane in full uniform bound men for one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Now he was here, granted, he had been shot… he could have died… but he was here now. That's why in the calm of their flat, while his fiancés fingers trailed patterns into his scalp… the detective… the freak… the machine… John's Sherlock… cried.

* * *

"I'm here to see Sherlock… Sherlock Holmes. I stopped at the Yard and they said he was here today."

Sally stopped and sighed. She hated civilians who tried to get into the crime scenes, people who wanted a glimpse of the great Sherlock Holmes in action. "Sir, this is a crime scene. We can't just let civilians in, it could severely damage what we're doing in there."

The plainly dressed man rolled his eyes and took a few more steps closer; leaning onto a cane for support. "I didn't want to use this." He pulled a wallet form his back pocket, flipping it open to reveal a military Id. However, this wasn't just any old military ID, and Sally's eyes almost bugged out of her head. This ID could've gotten the man into any crime scene in the whole of England, even the most top secret ones. Maybe he could have even gotten into Baskerville. "Yeah I know." The man smirked. "I know some important people. Now… Sherlock?"

Sally picked up her radio as she continued to look at the man and his ID. "Greg I'm sending up a man. Mister-."

"Doctor."

"Sorry, a Doctor John Watson." There was a pause as the DI replied. "He has a military ID, issued straight from Buckingham Palace. It's a high color, sir." Another pause. "He's here for Holmes."

Finally after no more than a minute, the sergeant lifted the police tape to allow John access. She gestured behind the building as she began to walk with him. She probably should have stayed at her post, but she really wanted to see what a Doctor wanted with the freak.

The two ducked through yet another round of bright yellow police tape, at which John was forced to flash his ID twice more. However, they eventually made it to the middle of the crime scene, where Sherlock stood over a dead body and Detective Inspector Lestrade walking toward them.

The DI stuck his hand out to John, and then spoke in a whisper. "He's deducing… pretty out of it. Already yelled at us to shut up twice."

John couldn't help the smile that graced his lips. "He's like that. Can go for days without speaking a word until he figures it all out. I'm here to help, I'm a doctor."

Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What level clearances are you?"

"Military black."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted over his shoulder. "You have a doctor here to see you!"

"I'm busy, Lestrade." The annoyance was clear in the detective's voice. "Tell them to stop by my flat if they need private work done!"

Sally stepped forward. "Finally, someone has seen you shouldn't be out here. They're going to haul you off, freak." Her words were punctuated by a click of her tongue and smart arse smirk.

John could visibly see the words cut through his fiancé who just continued to stand there and take it, back turned to everyone. No one did anything but just roll their eyes as if this was a common occurrence; a normal workplace nuisance.

Sherlock felt the words, he always did. He had just had a hard week; extremely emotionally charged. It wasn't that the man didn't feel, he just had a hard time understanding his feelings and expressing them in a healthy way. He felt as if the dam was about to break, and he blinked back the wetness that was threating to spill down his cheeks. Don't turn around… don't give her any ammo… just keep deducing. His whole body felt heavy and all he wanted to do was lie down. However, that wasn't going to happen. Keep going… no one will notice. No one ever noticed.

"Sherlock." John stepped forward, noticing the tension in his lover's body. He knew the man was close to a breakdown, no one else seemed to notice or care. He saw his partner turn around, tears pricking at his eyes.

"I told you not to come, you're still too weak."

John smiled, "I'm here aren't I? Come here…" He stepped forward once more and suddenly he had an armful of the world's only consulting detective. He KNEW the man was about to cry, but he also knew he wouldn't let that happen in front of so many people. "shhhhh…" he whispered quietly, "Don't do this here… you don't have to do this here."

"Who are you?" the confusion in Sally's voice was noticeable. "I thought you were his doctor?" This wasn't how doctors acted, it was completely unprofessional.

Lestrade seemed to be the only Yarder who even had any kind of comprehension on what was happening. His face wasn't the mask of confusion like every other officer. Instead, he wore a warm smile, and a knowing look. However, he didn't say anything to Sally.

John rolled his eyes, "I'm an army doctor." He pulled his dogs tags out from behind his jumper and that's when they all saw it. Attached to the metal tags was a small gold ring, dirtied by dirt and sand. It was obviously a bit too big for his fingers, and it was dented in on the one side. "I'm his fiancé. I just got shot, and so I'm back from Afghanistan I wanted to come on a case with him, but obviously even _him_ coming today was a mistake."

"Why would you say that?" Sally quirked an eyebrow and it was obvious that the question was less than innocent.

"How would you feel if your fiancé went off to war, came home shot, and you still had to go back to work and look at dead, and possibly gun shot riddled bodies all day?!" There was fire in John's eyes and hurt in his voice.

"It isn't like he has… feelings."

That comment seemed to set John over the edge. "How could you say that?! Look at him!" He gestured down to his utterly exhausted fiancé basically lying in his arms; red rings around his eyes and a blank stare on his face. "Obviously he tries not to show emotion because nobody cares! Do you know what, Donavan?!" He spit her name out as if it was poison on his tongue. "This man… is an amazing man. I was alone when I met him, and I owe him so much. I love him and it is unacceptable for anyone to say he is unfeeling, or a machine, or a freak. He has JUST as many emotions as everyone else in this room!"

Lestrade decided it was time for him to intervene. He reached over and put his hand on the army doctor's shoulder. "I think you've both had enough commotion for one day. Take him home."

John nodded, and threw one last glare to Sally before walking his fiancé right off of the crime scene. Right as they were about to hail a cab Sherlock turned around. Exhaustion was all over his face, and his body was shaking. He spoke quickly and quietly to Lestrade who had followed them to the road. "Suicide. It was a suicide…"

John smirked; of course he'd still managed to finish his case.

* * *

**A/N: So there ya go! Big thanks to Parivash! I couldn't do these stories without you! You fix mistakes I don't even know are there! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed! Other Sherlock stories can be found on my profile, along with a medley of other kinds fics! Thanks for reading it means a lot to me! 3**


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